Last Full Measure of Devotion
by Coilerfan35
Summary: He has stayed his blade, and as he closes this chapter of his life, Sofia asks him to relive history one last time in the abandoned home of the Assassin's, for no book can tell of the stories hidden within the walls of Masyaf. Spoilers for Revelations.


**An: Well, here I am...for the first time in months. I've been at a loss for any sort of inspiration, and therefore, I have been unable to write anything that wouldn't be complete and total crap. School has been stressful, and I find that my weekends barely exist, but through it all I managed to play the new Assassin's Creed game, and, as the gaming franchise usually does, it has sparked something in me. I loved Sofia and Ezio from the second they started flirting...which was a shock, considering I've always been a fanatic of Rosa above all other romance options. (Though, I give them all their dues). They are adorable, and I'm glad Ezio finally found someone to love. (Because...seriously, who didn't think he was going to die alone?)**

**Due to my lack of posting in the past months, if this is shit, please try to disregard it. XD This is basically just a little one-shot of him remembering the memories of the past, before he closes this chaper on being an assassin, and moves forward with Sofia.**

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><p>The sound of his footsteps alerted her of his oncoming presence, and her eyes shot up from their fixed position on the ground. He stood straighter than when he walked into the vault; a smile on his face and his wrists bare of his vambrances. He smirked at her softly and reached for her hand, tenderly bringing her knuckles to the lips he still hid under his gray hood.<p>

"Your weapons...where are they?"

"Buried...in the tomb with the man who was doomed to follow my past ways until the day of his death. I have seen enough in this life, dearest Sofia, but now...I am done."

The ruby-haired bookkeeper smiled softly, her emerald colored eyes shimmering in interest. "Can it be that easy, Ezio?"

"Who is to say that it can't be?" he asked, turning slightly to look into the darkened hall that led to the skeleton of Altaïr; forever dressed in his robes, resting with the apple that soaked up the years of his life since he was merely twenty six. "The Assassins are more than what meets the eye. We fight, and we kill, like any other soldier, but we follow a single creed that applies to all. When one betrays us, we all feel it, and when one of us is born, we all rejoice. We do not speak to each other, but through each other, so that we may spread our knowledge and ideas over generations...so that we continue to grow. We do not fight to end the lives of evil men, but to protect the lives of the innocents, veiled from the darkness and power that lingers beyond their sight. We live and act as one...but a time comes when you become expendable. I can no longer climb with the ease I had when I was a boy, nor do I fight with the same vigor. I am growing old, and I refuse to allude myself health I do not have. I have learned and I have taught. I have killed and I have saved. I have spread the message to those who will spread it further...so my part within the order is finished."

"Though a part of me is relieved that you chose to lay down your sword, I can't help but think that your Assassins won't take your retirement easily."

"They will remember the memory of me," Ezio explained, guiding Sofia away from the Altaïr's library, and into the open halls of Masyaf castle. "As the memories of the Assassins before exist here still, but existence is a constant cycle of life and death, and one must take advantage of the short time he or she is given."

She nodded at his words, and allowed her curiosity to carry her feet over the dusty stone stairs that wore the marks of many ancient steps. She followed the walkways lined with empty bookshelves to the open space backed by a large, ceiling-high window. The black iron bars were rusted, and flakes of the metal littered the stone ground that was engraved with the symbol worn until the sash of every Assassin, and snow could be seen through the dirt that had clung to the glass for centuries. Her fingertips slid down the freezing glass, pulling away dust and dirt that had outlasted those who once called this great fortress home.

His hand touched her hip, and the warmth of his body heated her cooling skin as he pulled her against him, his chin barely resting on her shoulder. Her hands wrapped around his own, and through the thin lines drawn by her fingers, she looked out into the back courtyard that was once full of frivolity, happiness, and color.

"Tell me about this place..." she whispered, leaning back against him and trying to imagine what Masyaf looked like in the thirteenth century; full of men in white hoods and beautiful women dressed in colorful courtesan dresses. "Tell me of it's history, of those who lived here. Tell me of Altaïr."

"I do not know much of this castle, but I can tell you many things about Altaïr. He was a great Assassin, born into the Order and taught our ways the moment he could speak. He was taught our creed, and excelled as a student, until he was appointed as an Assassin, and worked closely with the Grandmaster at the time; Al Mualim. But Altaïr's natural skill allowed for him to take it for granted, and his downfall came when his view of our creed started to slip. Al Mualim sent him to find an artifact named The Arc of the Covenant, which was in the hands of Templars at the time. Along the way, Altaïr broke all of our creed's tenants, and was stripped of his rank upon his return to Masyaf. Slowly, he worked himself back to where he was; relearning our ways so that he could fully appreciate them. Though, unbeknownst to him, Al Mualim was a man obsessed with power, and within the artifact that Altaïr was sent after before his downfall, rested another much more powerful item."

"What was it?" Sofia asked, smiling brightly at the vibrant imagery Ezio spoke with.

"An apple," he answered, smirking when her head turned slightly in confusion. "An apple made of a material unknown to man, even to this day. It shimmers with the light of the sun and moon combined, and allows he who wields it to control the fate of any man close to him. Knowledge and power remain hidden within it's golden shell, but only he with a strong mind, and even stronger heart, can keep it from becoming destructive."

"And Altaïr was that man?"

"Yes, but he had to constantly struggle to keep it in his hands. Every mission Altaïr was sent on during his redemption was towards gaining this apple, and bringing down Templar influence. When he presented the artifact to Al Mualim, the truth was able to shine through, and his motives became clear. Altaïr fought his master in that courtyard, a mere Assassin against the power of an artifact too powerful for the hands of men."

"How did he survive?" Sofia asked, contemplating his story while sliding her fingers against the back of his hand. "If this...apple...is as dangerous as you describe, then he shouldn't have survived."

"In the big scheme of things, he shouldn't have," Ezio admitted, "But the apple has a mind of its own. It knows who should hold it and who shouldn't. Those that abuse it, will lose the fight against he who will use it to save those from its destruction."

"Hmm," she murmured, her mind reeling at the thought that the stories of this apple were far from the fanciful.

"Anyway, after Al Mualim's death, Altaïr became Grandmaster of the Order, at the young age of twenty six. A man...Abbas, was always a rival of him, and with Altaïr's control of the apple, and knowledge of Al Mualim's death, Abbas grew weary of Altaïr's commands. Altaïr had Al Mualim's body burned, which was a fate worse than death itself. Abbas tried his best to rile the villagers in Masyaf against him, and gained control of the apple in hopes to take over as Grandmaster himself. Though, like I said, the apple knows who shouldn't wield it, and Abbas almost lost his life when the apple continuously dispelled its powerful quakes that rocked the world and slowly drained the life of those in range. Altaïr was able to gain control of the apple, Abbas apologized for his mistake, and in an act of mercy, Altaïr allowed Abbas to remain in the Order. Such an act showed the other Assassins of his good judgment and wisdom."

"His story sounds so sad and empty," Sofia observed, turning in Ezio's grasp and gently resting her hands on his arms. "Did he ever find someone to share his time with? Did he ever find love?"

"Patience _mia bella_," Ezio cooed softly, his bearded smile and gentle kiss to her forehead pulling at Sofia's heartstrings. "She comes next. You see...Altaïr had a love before his wife...a woman named Adha. She was like the apple; an instrument of knowledge and power, but a living, breathing person. She was beautiful, and he believed he would lay down his blade to make a life with her, but the Templars had their sights on her, and took her hostage on a ship. Altaïr fought through the entire fleet; killing any and all who had to deal with her capture – including the Templar Grandmaster – until he realized that she was on the ship sailing for the horizon. He called her name, and vowed he would find her, but when he did, she was nothing more than a corpse, and his heart once filled with love, darkened with revenge."

"But he found love again?"

"Of course. He married an Englishwoman, named Maria Thorpe, who left her home in England to fight under the Templar Order. During Altaïr's redemption, he was ordered to target the Grandmaster of the Templar Order – Robert de Sable – at the funeral of a former Templar contact he had killed. Though, Maria stood in his stead, while Robert escaped to try and join forces with King Richard and rise against the Assassin Order. He spared Maria's life when he removed her armor, and revealed her identity, for she wasn't his target, and soon met her again when Altaïr's missions led him to Cyprus. With Robert dead, another Grandmaster was appointed – a man by the name of Armand Bouchart – and the fact that a woman was in the Order, upset him tremendously. He slowly took away Maria's rights in the Order, until she was forced to act against them. She eventually befriended Altaïr, and after their adventures in Cyprus, they traveled east together. They were married in Cyprus, and seven months after, she gave birth to their first son; Darim. They had another son named Sef later on."

"An Assassin and a Templar? I'm sure the Order didn't approve."

"The Order followed Altaïr's command, and would rather die than go against him," Ezio explained. "I'm sure there was unrest, but they took her in, and people came to love her."

"Did something happen to her?" Sofia asked. "I can only imagine something had if Altaïr never got to live a life other than that of an Assassin."

"Well," he sighed. "There was one instance in history when Altaïr abused the power of the apple...and her life was taken because of that. The Mongol Army was invading in the north, so Altaïr and Maria rode to join their son, Darim, in the fight against Genghis Khan. While fighting, they were informed by Abbas that their son Sef was murdered, and that a close friend of theirs was to blame. He of course, didn't do it, and when confronting Abbas, Abbas demanded the apple, and Altaïr, overcome with rage, extended it. Maria knew the decision was bad, and exclaimed that he had allowed his rage to consume him when the apple started to shine. Abbas' assistant, a man named Swami, stepped forward to accept the artifact, but it grasped his mind, and made him draw his dagger. He began cutting himself and flailing wildly; accidentally cutting Maria's throat and casting her into death. She died in her lover's arms, whispering_ 'Be strong,'_ before passing. In his grief, he fled to Alamut."

"That is so tragic," she whispered, a slight shine coming to her eyes as she imagined the pain of it all. One of his hands – rough from years of climbing – cupped her cheek in comfort. She smiled in response, and the arm he held around her tightened; his warmth a reminder that such tragedy was not her own.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "But he fought for her...I know he did."

"How do you know?"

"Because, when you truly fall in love, every action you take, and every move you make is made hoping that the one you love will approve."

"Ah-ha, I knew the romantic Italian in you would make an appearance one day or another," she smiled, meeting him halfway when his head fell forward to touch her forehead with his own.

"My words are not born from romanticism, but of experience. When Ahmet told me he was coming after you, my movements were swift, and I didn't think twice about my actions if I believed they would keep you safe."

"Are you saying you love me, _messere Auditore_?"

"Only if you believe I am _la mia dolce_," he teased, placing a kiss to her forehead before she pulled from his grasp and allowed herself to take a final look around the castle.

"So is that it?" she asked, her hips swaying as she observed the once-full bookcases, and the many large windows that allowed light to shine into the castle. "His wife was killed, and he fled?"

"No. He returned many years after to take Abbas' life. He was old and it hurt him to do anything but walk casually. Many Assassins accepted him back as their mentor, and protected him against the few who served Abbas. With ease, Altaïr took his life, and began to purge Masyaf of their influence. He sent the Assassins to the far edges of the world, ordering them to do one thing and one thing only. Spread their creed, and keep the innocent safe. Altaïr provided his last full measure of devotion by hiding away his apple, and burying himself within this castle...allowing this fortress of arrogance to die with him. Now he rests forever in this place, and I wished him peace in death before laying my blades at his feet. He could never regret the only life he had, but I have known happiness, and I have known peace. My last day will not be brought upon me by the sword of my enemy, but instead spent in the comfort of my home...the home I will make...that we will make."

"The home we will make?" she tested, smiling softly to herself as she walked for the light shining brightly from the outside world; away from death, and away from secrecy. "I like the sound of that."


End file.
